the way you hurt me without even saying sorry and meaning it
would be worse if i still cared. you can wait for the next time
i run into your arms and start ranting about some annoying
inconvenience at the supermarket, but i swear you'll never get it.
and you are sick, the way you can say 10 words and out of them flows
20 lies. and i hate when i hate you, because it's hating myself.
you are everything i grew from. everything i worked so hard to remove.
and i'm sorry for every time, they fed you lies and betrayed you,
while holding your hand. you're scared and hurt in all the places i was,
but the difference is that you created my wounds.
i listen to the music that i like and wear the clothes i want to wear
and i do it all without thinking about you. but sometimes late at night,
when i'm deep in my thoughts but alone in my head, i know,
the last sin i left behind was loving you.
